


Mystery Spot tag

by LeWriter241



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-19
Updated: 2012-07-19
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeWriter241/pseuds/LeWriter241
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We all know what Sam went through at Mystery Spot. But what if Dean went thorough it all too?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1.

Sam's POV:

Sam couldn't take it anymore.

He just couldn't. He had lived through 12 Tuesdays.

All on November 2nd.

The day his mom had died.

The day his Jess had died.

Everyday, or rather, every Tuesday, he had wake up to Asia blasting through the radio, getting more paranoid Tuesday after Tuesday, frustrated and tired, a hole aching in him as he checked the calendar over and over again hoping to see a 'Wednesday.'

Each day would go on the same way. Dean would order breakfast. Sam would try explaining to Dean about the previous Tuesday, but all Dean understood was that Sam was experiencing deja vu. They'd leave, and Sam would try his best to stay with Dean at all times, hoping to stop what would happen, dread filling him till he almost choked. He didn't give a damn if Dean thought he was insane. He couldn't go through the raw agony of seeing his big brother die over and over again.

He hated feeling so helpless, hated it that there was nothing he could do to get out of this time-loop he was stuck in, hated it that Dean was the one dying over and over again in the most ridiculous way, and there was NOTHING he could do about it.

He had become inhuman, had ripped apart the Mystery Spot twice, had almost killed an old man, and yelled at the restaurant employees till he could feel blood in his mouth.

But at the end of the day, Dean would be dying in his arms, clinging on to Sam's jacket for dear life as the light in his eyes faded; Sam, traumatized, with tears streaming down his face and driven to the brink of insanity, would keep on murmuring that he would fix everything, cradling Dean against him, the hole in his chest aching, every Tuesday.

And Sam couldn't do one thing about it.

And it was always, November 2nd.

 

Dean's POV

Dean didn't have a clue as to what was happening.

He'd lived through 12 Tuesdays, each one involving Sam dying, over, and over, and over again, in the most ridiculous yet savage way.

And it was killing him.

Seeing Sam dead once had been excuciating. He didn't think he'd have it in him to see his little brother die again. But he was living his nightmare now.

He'd felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest when Sam somehow first fell off a bridge onto the hard asphalt below, and had stopped just in time before he'd almost blindly jumped over to reach his brother. He'd been covered in his little brother's blood, shaking him, screaming for him to wake him up, shaking himself, hoping to God or whatever that he was dreaming.

And just like that, it ended, and he was back in his bed, with some ridiculous Sam-type song playing on the radio while Sam tidied up his bed.

He'd tried telling Sam, getting pissed off each day, that he was stuck in some sick, 'Groundhog Day,' type loop, and that Sam died every single day. He'd constantly be by Sam's side, but at the end of the day, he'd be holding Sam in his arms, his face buried into Sam's hair, weeping, as Sam slowly faded away.

Each day got worse. Dean was at a loss as to what he could do to stop Sammy from dying. He couldn't think straight. He'd almost given up hope and had closed up, just a lifeless body, sticking to Sam wherever he went, and when Sam died, it had taken all his will power to not completely break down and think of a way to get out of the crap he was stuck in.

But nothing worked.


	2. 2.

Sam's POV

Today was the 113th Tuesday.

And today he would see Dean die again.

He'd been as sharp as a hawk, eyeing everything suspiciously, knowing that no matter what he did, Dean would still die. Dean kept on asking him over and over again if he was okay, getting worried about him. Sam couldn't help but wonder at the irony of the situation each day. Dean was going to die, again, and he was worried about Sam.

They were sitting in the motel room. Sam hadn't allowed Dean to go out and had snapped at him to stay in. So Dean, worried about his brother, stayed in, and tired to lighten him up by cracking his lame-ass jokes, but Sam didn't crack a single smile.

Suddenly, the ground below their feet shook and Sam, already on full alert, put the safety off on his gun and stood ready. He pushed Dean behind him and cornered him against the wall, on full alert.

As soon as he did that, he heard the wall break behind them and Sam was thrown across the room with Dean. He landed face first with Dean on his back. He felt Dean choke and something wet stick to the back of his neck. He tried to turn around and sat up so he could hold Dean. He saw in horror, the holes in his brother's body, with streams of blood oozing out of them, while Dean choked on his own blood, withering like a dead animal. Sam grabbed all the cloth he could find to stop the bleeding and tried to see through the tears and blood on his face, talking to Dean all the time about fixing him. But he felt Dean's labored breath stop and saw his brother's dead eyes staring at the ceiling, cold, with flecks of blood in them.

This was the worst of all the deaths he'd seen. Sam was too much in shock to do anything than just hold his brother and stare at his chest and face, horrified, traumatized, with tears flowing continuously. The realization seeped into him, making him cringe and ache, feeling like his whole body was on fire.

He shut his eyes tight, hoping to wake up, hoping for the stickiness of his brother's blood to pass away, hoping to hear Asia once again.

But nothing happened.

He opened his eyes again and they fell on his brother's bloody body. Why wasn't he waking up? He tried slapping himself, but got more blood on his face instead. No no no. This was just another Tuesday. The loop wasn't broken. It couldn't be. Dean couldn't be dead. Not like this. Not now!

Sam let out a strangled cry, clutching onto his brother for dear life. The words kept on repeating themselves in his head- this couldn't be happening, not like this, not now, no no no.

"Having fun, Sam?" Sam looked up slowly, unable to take his eyes off his brother. He couldn't believe what he saw.

It was the Trickster, grinning like a manic. The one they had killed in Springfield University.

Or, had thought they had.

"Wha-This was you? This was all you?" Sam spluttered, his voice shaking with anger and anguish.

"Well, I kinda did take inspiration for the killings from a few mags, but yep, the rest was all me. Pretty cool huh?" the Trickster said breezily, smiling, walking towards Sam.

"You sick son of a bitch. I will kill you, I swear to God. I WILL KILL YOU!" Sam yelled, and leaving Dean, tried to punch the Trickster. He missed and now the Trickster was standing behind him.

"Well, I'd love to see you try Sam. It didn't go exactly the way you'd planned the last time, did it?" the Trickster said, laughing.

"I was just goofing around, havin' some fun, until YOU two idiots had to show up, poking their noses, ruining my fun, and ALMOST KILLING ME!" he yelled angrily. "I needed entertainment! I've been on this earth, for over freakin' millenniums and I. GET. BORED! How else do you think the Gladiator wars came into existence huh?"

"So I thought this would be the perfect pay-back for you two boys. This would teach you to never go after me again,"the Trickster said, coolly. "Putting you two in separate time dimensions, watching each other die over and over again...man, was it fun or what? Killing two birds with one stone." the Trickster laughed.

Sam stared at him, not able to believe his ears. Two separate time-loops? He could hear his heart pounding, feeling it throb in his ears. "Two...separate...time-loops?" he whispered, tears starting afresh. "Then..."

The Trickster snapped his fingers and Dean's body vanished, along with all his blood which had splashed everywhere.

"Yes, Sam. Two different ones. I didn't really see the point in killing Dean before his due date. He's going to suffer a horrible death anyway. Why take away the opportunity?" he said, circling Sam.

Sam felt dizzy with relief. He felt lighter, glad to know that Dean hadn't suffered the horrible death he'd just seen. But then he felt agonized thinking about what Dean would be going through, watching his little brother die over and over again. He was so relieved to know Dean was okay in other respects that he fell to his knees.

He looked up to the Trickster, "Please," he begged, his face glistening with tears. "We won't ever hunt you, I swear. I'll-I'll lead Dean o-off if h-he ever co-comes close to y-you. J-Just..."he stammered, taking in a shaky breath. "Just please let us go. Let my brother go please."

The Trickster cocked his head to a side, considering. "Well you seem desperate enough, and this was getting boring...Fine," He shrugged, going towards the motel room door, "You'll wake up after this, but remember Sam," he said, turning around, "if you so much as look up the place where I am, you know how you will be dealt with. And that time, it won't be just a dream."

Saying that he walked out the door, and Sam saw black before he fell to the floor.


	3. 3.

The boys woke up with a start from their beds, gasping. Hearing the other and realizing this was the first time they'd gotten up together and heard one another, they turned around, facing each other. Sam and Dean stared at each other, looking into the horror in each others eyes.

Slowly, Dean stammered, almost choking with relief,"Sammy?"

Just hearing Dean and seeing him whole was enough for Sam. He jumped out of his bed at the same time Dean jumped out of his, each embracing the other in a bone-crushing hug, tears streaming down both their faces, and felt immeasurable joy that they could feel each others heart beating continuously after a long time, and that the beating didn't stop.

And they didn't care who came in and saw them, and Dean didn't give a rat's ass that it would probably be one of the first chick-flick moments he'd initiated.

"You-you okay Sammy?" Dean asked, after they pulled away, his green eyes filled, shining with tears. 

"I'm fine Dean, I'm fine," Sam let out a shaky laugh. "Did-did the Trickster meet you too?"

Dean's eyes widened. "The Trickster? Why would that bast-" and Dean's face finally showed understanding of what had happened. His eyes hardened, "You went through it too huh?"

Sam shook his head silently, running his hands across his face. "He met me. Told me what he did."

Dean's eyes filled with anger. "That disgusting son of a bitch. I'll kill him Sammy, I swear I will. I'm gonna-"

"No Dean, you're not gonna. I promised him we won't. He'll do it again and again then...and," Sam's voice cracked, "he said he'd make it real."

Dean understood, the anger in his eyes fading away, replace by relief and regret. Regret that he couldn't stake the bastard and kill him once and for all, and relief that his little brother was okay. He sighed, nodded, and said,"Fine Sam, I won't. We won't. Now please let's just get outta here. I can't stay in this room for another damn second," and he went around, tossed Sam's bag to him, and began packing his own.

Sam followed, throwing everything in the bag. They checked out as fast as they could and dumped their things in the Impala.

"Aw baby I missed you," Dean sighed out loud, sitting in the Impala, patting the dashboard. Sam smiled, glad for everything to be normal again, at least, what little normalcy they had left in their life. Dean looked over to his brother, grinning happily for once in a long time, and Sam grinned back, temporary enjoying the little happiness they had, but each knowing that what they had seen and what the other had seen would never fade away, and it would continue to haunt them.

Dean put the car into reverse, switched on the radio, and they fled out of Florida, each trying to forget the horrors they'd experienced and focus on the fact that the other was still breathing.

And it was finally Wednesday, 3rd of November.


End file.
